Brother of the Night
by DarthKoran
Summary: Darth Koran, apprenticed to the steel-hearted and uncompromising Darth Bromander, eager to prove his worth to  and overthrow  his master sets out on a mission that could change his life... Forever.
1. Chapter 1: Sunset

*Special thanks to jedicommando13 (who is responsible for a good chunk of this chapter, if not half) for permission to use his OC (Jedi Commando).

Sunset

Darth Koran strode to his destination proudly, the way a true master of the Force should. He knew his power was growing, faster and faster. Soon he would be able to overthrow his master and perhaps Dooku, and truly take his place as a Sith Lord, not some worthless Darkside acolyte. Then he could destroy the Republic by Sidious's side, then he could relish in the final destruction of the accursed Jedi Order.

After that he had grander plans. The Nightsisters who slaughtered his family, they must die too, the most painful and agonizing death he could give them. He grinned as he thought of torturing them with Force lightening, driving them mad with Force insanity, and breaking them into quivering cowards. Then he could relish in the pain, feeling it echo through the Force, letting it dominate him. Yet he would not stop there, what else could stop him from making his home Dathomir a fortress, a true citadel of the darkside? If the Nightsisters perished then he could easily quash the lightsided Force witches, the weak servants of the lightside who failed to realize their true potential were a nuisance that needed to be rid of. After that, what was to stop him from taking total control of the galaxy?

He knelt before his master, barely hiding his disgust. He respected Darth Bromander, but all true Sith dream of betraying and overcoming their master. He asked, "What is thy bidding?"

"You should know by now you weak fool." His master turned around and spat at him. "You are weaker than I first imagined."

"Perhaps you need reminding of my power," he replied, "Give me a mission and you will not be disappointed."

"Well," his master began slowly, perhaps sensing a possible betrayal, "Count Dooku and the Seperatist council have noted the effectiveness of clone commandos…"

"They're concerned by droids with feelings? Gunray and his ilk are bigger sniveling cowards than I first thought."

"Shut up, I've yet to finish," Darth Bromander probed Koran's mind, he flinched as bit as terrible thoughts thrust in, then waded in their power. Darth Koran's master continued, "Those commandos you met before. You must kill them."

"My pleasure master," He remembered the last time he had met these foes. He was just supposed to keep the droid forces and Neomodian cowards in line. Instead the Republic had sent a clone command squad to ensure that his staging ground was destroyed. He was sickened. One of them actually had some worth, a connection, a connection with the Force. He brandished a lightsaber to match Koran's and held out against the Maskashi barrage with a basic version of form V, the man was trained, but very little. Perhaps Koran could expand that power.

He flashed backed to the duel. The two other clones blasted at him, aiding their brother, Darth Koran kept the blasts at bay, barely, but he did and continued to fight the Lightsaber wielding clone. Their blades touched and he grimaced as he tried to push forward, he was unable to tell the emotions of the other man, they were hidden by a helmet and the face shared by millions of his brothers. Koran tried to tempt his foe, "Why do you subject yourself to being stuck with these things? They are the same, worthless, hopeless. You on the other hand, you have potential, you are literally a one in a million find, embrace your power!"

The clone just sneered back in the Concord Dawn accent, "Ni nu akaanir ner vode par gar." The clone then gained the advantage and swatted Darth Koran's lightsaber away and one in blood spattered armor knocked Koran out with the butt of his rifle.

Koran's thoughts returned to the present day…

Forsaking his lowly knee before Bromander, he departed her presence without as much as a look backward. Koran would, this time, instill in his master more than a former regard of the meager merits of trust that she allowed him… As he schemed he knew that his planned success of this mission could change their relationship forever. In his ecstasy, Koran nearly walked off an extension bridge platform on his way to the hangar. The grand schemes of tomorrow seemed quite tangible the whispers of power whetting Koran's appetite.

If anything, the site of a prototype M25-infiltrator bolstered Koran's mood. Koran had, throughout the years, always retained a passion for weapons and machinery. The allure of their deadly beauty and engineering marvel had always intrigued him. Though he hadn't personally built the M25I, it was his original design, his plan. It was another sign of his genius, or genius he claimed to have. His designs were all of its sleek curves, the revolutionary engine system, its static missiles, and its unique cabin. The ship completed his being as much as his lightsaber did.

Koran boarded his prized vehicle and was off. As the vessel was much too small to achieve light-speed, a ring awaited him just outside Darth Bromander's flagship, Draco. Docking was always a bit rough, but nothing could pervade Darth Koran's good mood, more narcissism entering his being, at the moment so it went unnoticed. He punched in the coordinates for the proper sector of space he was headed to, and then the all-to-familiar blurred stars made themselves known from outside the cock-pit windows. The beauty of the stars never ceased to amaze spacers looking for adventures, Jedi studying the mysteries of the Force, even old soldiers. Yet then meant nothing to Koran, and as he soared through space, he finally began his pre-mission self-briefing ritual as was custom.

"Let's see," he spoke aloud to himself. "Mission type: Termination/capture, Target(s): unknown clone squadron/Separatist compound, Destination: Datho-…" Koran cut himself off. He had not given any thought about the where of his assignment until the present moment. Dathomir… a land of varying, intense terrains, predatory wildlife, cool climate, and worst of all THEM: the infamous force witches. Suddenly Darth Koran's steel bubble of joy was decimated. He only thought these next words. "They will pay… all will pay…" A brief, maniacal chuckle left Koran's lips. The slaughter of his young life had gone on far too long un-avenged. The thought of revenge was- arousing.

This tangent of thought brought Koran all the way to the outskirts of the Quelii Sector. Here is where the M25I brought itself out of light-speed. Auto-pilot could have carried him into Dathomir's atmosphere, but Koran switched it off after he passed Koratas, a moon of his former home planet. Darth Koran was quite the pilot, and an avid fan of it at that.

Upon entrance into the outermost layers of Dathomir's thick clouds, he was pervaded by an unnatural sense of darkness and fear… No- not fear, the Sith did not bother with such petty emotions. Koran decided it was but his mind readying himself for the trials ahead. But as the M25I descended further into the fog, his tensions grew. Koran found that he was, in fact, more fearful of returning to the land of the Night Sisters than he'd been during his initial encounter with Darth Bromander. If anything, this increased his anxiety.

Filled with uncertainty and fear, Darth Koran landed just outside of the forest belonging to the Nightsisters, known for their preference of the Dark side, and the utter destruction of a certain mountain village that once stood nearby…

Notes:

"Ni nu akaanir ner vode par gar"- Mando'a for "I won't fight my brothers for you"

The M25 Infiltrator is a reference to and is based off Darth Maul's original Sith Infiltrator, appearing in The Phantom Menace. But, whereas the original was quite large and angular, the M25 is much smaller, sleeker, and curvier than its predecessor.


	2. Chapter 2: Dusk

Dusk

Small lizards scampered about. A rancor mating call could be heard in the distance. The eerie calm of the forest was no comfort to Koran. Every fiber of his being burned with the pain of an old scar, old wounds reopened, yet he lusted something: revenge. Yet he slunk onwards into the thick of the woods, where he knew the ghosts of his past lurked. This mission, Koran reminded himself, was of the utmost importance. Success could put all of his ambitions in motion. Failure could cost him his life.

Sustained by this idea, Koran successfully pervaded the dense mass of trees surrounding the previously Separatist outpost. It wasn't really much to behold: a small, bulky, emaciated steel structure, with a large plasteel door in the front but without windows. To any natives, it looked like a Republic frigate wreck. Koran approached cautiously. Crunch! In a split second, the ground dropped out from under his feet. Attuning to the force, he blasted himself out of the now fifteen-foot deep hole he'd nearly fallen into. Koran swore stuck a landing, and proceeded to inspect the would-be trap. "Nightsisters," he whispered to himself. Koran knew full well that only a Nightsister would set such a trap. It was but a large hole covered by a massive collection of rotting, caked leaves, just what covered up the rest of the area, which was meant to do only that: trap. The victim would die of dehydration before they could ever escape, unless the unseen predator had other plans.

Now positive that the ghosts of his past were right behind him, breathing down his neck, Koran made a near frantic dash for the plasteel door. Without another thought, he ignited his lightsaber and laid waste to it. Three scout troopers stood in the now exposed foyer of the base. With a flash of plasma, they fell to the floor. With a loud clank, the emergency hatch slid shut behind Koran. The ghosts were still outside. His fear had left him.

In a matter of minutes Koran located a computer access terminal, slew the resident guard, and had hacked himself schematics of the entire fortress. He was once again thinking clearly; it was time to strike. The layout of the outpost was not very complicated: there was a foyer, which lead into a chamber, a main chamber (divided into many rooms), and three other auxiliary chambers surrounding it. Also, an intricate series of ventilation ducts wove their way throughout. Koran considered this mode of infiltration for not even a second. A Jedi Knight or clone commando would easily use this convenient way around security, but It was nowhere close to fit for a Sith.

He exited the computer access terminal booth and proceeded down through the foyer and into the first chamber. The door slid open with a wave of his hand. It was but a small room, with nothing but yet another large, thick, plasteel door. And there were guards; six to be exact, each armed with standard issue blaster rifles. "Perfect," thought Koran. A second passed. The clones then processed that an intruder stood before them, and they raised their weapons. But it was too late. He strode away, a cocky grin on his face, enjoying the deaths of his enemies.

Recently, Koran had stumbled onto an astounding discovery. He could, in fact, create fire. Well, simulate fire is a better phrase. By "rubbing" mediclorians in the air together at ridiculously high speeds and causing enough friction, heat could be created. Enough was created to ignite nearby objects. After strenuously practicing this technique day in and day out behind his ever-vigilant master's back, Koran could now use his new power in the field.

The clones passed out simultaneously. Ot`i, as he called it, allowed Koran to create fire wherever there were mediclorians to burn. The insulating armor of clone troopers created a wonderful container in which to ignite flames. Koran deactivated their guns and laid waste to the second plasteel door that day.

Koran strutted through the rest of the outpost killing the remaining clones, or he called them droids with brains, in a very similar fashion. Once again pride was getting the best of him. So brilliant was his control of fire, that none stood in his way; none, perhaps, but the lightsaber-wielding Jedi from before…. Koran's thoughts turned to the mysterious, force-sensitive Mandalorian. Standing amidst the silent emptiness of the base, Koran remembered his own plan, and what he had really come here to accomplish. Immediately, he reached out with force tendrils of his consciousness and searched for the unusual Jedi Commando. He touched two minds, the first and closest of which was in an oddly subdued state. This one he disregarded as it posed no conceivable threat. The second reached out back at him. It was rather unfortunate for Jedi Commando, one with so little training rarely knows how to control their power, but it was welcome to Koran. "That's it!" Koran whispered to himself. Quickly and carefully, he retracted his mentality and set out in the direction of his prey.

A door opened. There he stood; a clone commando, in his katarn armor, except no lightsaber. Jedi Commando wasn't one to carry one around and flaunt it, he was trained to little to care. Koran grinned now it would be easy. In that distinct, Concord Dawn accent, he stated, "Nice to meet you again."

"I wish the same could be said for you," Koran retorted. "You possess such wonderful talent, so much has been given to you, and you waste it on your 'brothers'".

"You see, we Mando'ade, we have a saying. Aliit Ori'shya Tal'din. So I'll say it again: I will never betray them for you!"

"Pitiful. It's a waste." The clone laughed, "I pity you. You subject yourself to torture and happily slay people you've never met for the hell of it."

"I call that power, perhaps I can educate you." The commando shook his head, "Sorry buddy, ain't gonna happen."

He raised his blaster and fired just as both sides of Koran's saber ignited swatting them away. Koran Force leaped towards the commando who ducked away and grabbed a vibroblade. Now they both lunged for each other, crying out, and crossed blades.

Meanwhile, the owner of the lonely, subdued consciousness stirred in her detention cell.

Notes:

Plasteel is a very thick, strong material that is impervious to blaster fire, but not lightsabers.

Katarn armor- clone commando armor, no relation to the Jedi master from the new jedi order (who is beast btw) or the animal

Aliit ori`shya tal`din = "Family is more than a bloodlin" in Mando`a


	3. Chapter 3: A Shot in the Dark

Thanks to Jedicommando13 for use of his OC, Jedi Commando (the clone commando).

And now the fight scene that everyone (or maybe just me) has been waiting for! *(Star Wars space fight theme begins to play in the background) (laughs)

A Shot in the Dark

Clash! Hiss! Slash! Vwuum! Hiss! Vwum! Slash! Chink! A swirling lightshow of luminescent malevolence was all that was visible. No one would ever have noticed the Sith apprentice and the clone commando battling to the death in the middle of an otherwise deserted chamber. Their endless streams of blows and parries disappeared into a river of light and motion.

Suddenly, there was a break; a blade shunt. The two warriors glared at each other, all eyes ripe with deadly intent. "Can't you see? Through power, I can gain victory! The Dark Side is a pathway to such glorious things," offered Koran.

"Coward," the clone retorted, "Victory through sole passion is a lie. We Mandalorians prefer it through honorable combat, and I think the Jedi do too."

"GrAAgh!" Koran let go and spun around the commando, letting his own force do him in. But before he could deliver a killing blow, the clone executed a shoulder roll. Back on his feet, he lashed out viciously with the vibroblade. Koran parried in the nick of time and in turn twirled his saber-staff at his opponent's legs. A quick jump saved his appendages. But then Koran reversed his swing and slashed upward. The clone augmented his stance and dodged it with ease. Then he leapt at Koran and made a stab at his heart with fatal accuracy. Luckily Koran jumped right over him.

Thok! The clone commando had stumbled and his blade was now lodged in the ground. Koran walked over.

"Die, you slave of the light!" His hatred had taken over and consumed him. The clone's severed head would be enough for him now. It was time to annihilate, to destroy, to wipe out this… this… Before Koran could finish his thought, he was hurled onto his back by the clone commando. He had forsaken his now useless blade.

The clone only got two punches in, though, although those were two very good punches. Needless to say Koran had a broken nose. Fortunately Koran had always been better at hand-to-hand combat than swordplay anyway. He blocked the first jab and caught the second. Koran cross-punched the side of the clone's helmet. It did a stunning job of absorbing most of the shock and the clone wasn't even dazed for a second. Taking no time to recover, the clone commando wrenched his captive arm free and went for the Sith's neck. Koran likewise attempted to strangle the commando. They rolled around for two whole minutes trying to get the edge on the other, and only stopped when they slammed right into the wall. Taking advantage of the situation the clone took his hand and barbarically bashed Koran's head against the barrier. Now in a subdued, mental haze, Koran could barely think. His most primal instincts, however, allowed him to call upon the will of the dark side. Regaining a portion of consciousness the battered warrior shoved with all the power he could muster away from the oppressive torturer that was a steel wall.

Taking the clone commando with him, Koran landed in the middle of the chamber once again. By now the force had leveled out his thoughts. He perceived his opponent's next strike in an instant. Rolling out of its range Koran made further use of the darkness under his power to rifle debris the clone's way. Prepared to cast his eyes upon the commando's flattened corpse, Koran was utterly disappointed as well as mystified when he found his opponent was now amongst the missing.

He anxiously rummaged the room visually. To his surprise, all Koran would catch of the force-sensitive clone commando was his back rushing its way to a large devastated plasteel door. Racking his brain for a reason why, the Sith was stumped. At first he believed the clone to be far more worthless then he had first imaged. A Mandalorian would never run and even a Jedi would hold firm. But then prior experience inundated his mind: the vibroblade. It was protruding from the floor. Koran recalled the schematics from earlier. There was a level below the ground level of the fortress. It was a generator room. He also recalled his earlier meeting with the clone some mention of knowledge in demolitions. The only time that clone would run would be when something was about to blow sky high, and the reactor assured the base was ready to do that. Frantically, Koran dashed to where the forsaken weapon had once lain. It was covered by whatever he had flung at the commando. "Shi-"was all he had time to vocalize but Koran sure completed that thought mentally. Also he had completed thinking that a Force shield could absorb most of the blast but there was no evidence that would save his life. There was a blinding flash of light. Koran was tossed backwards. He knew nothing more until hours later. Koran had just made quite a costly shot in the dark.

Notes:

A blade shunt is that magically dramatic moment when fighters lock blades and struggle to get the upper hand for a while. This happened a lot on Mustafar in Episode III.

"through power I gain victory" is a reference to the Sith code. As is Jedi's bit about passion; passinon is a key element in the code as well ( the whole thing appears on my profile).


End file.
